


Electronics and the Phil's who break them

by Fictropes



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Blowjobs, Chapter 2 not actually chapter, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Repair Shop Owner Dan, Slow-ish burn, Strangers to Lovers, no i'm lying.... this is not slow at all..., sorry for lying but they once again fall in love in an impossible amount of time, video editor phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictropes/pseuds/Fictropes
Summary: The first time’s an accident, a proper accident— a Phil forgot how to hold his cup and now he’s watching his coffee seep into his keyboard type accident.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 33
Kudos: 128





	Electronics and the Phil's who break them

The first time’s an accident, a proper accident— a Phil forgot how to hold his cup and now he’s watching his coffee seep into his keyboard type of accident. 

He was halfway through the most important project of the year, some massive client that his boss had basically sold his soul to get. Now Phil’s laptop if full of the coffee he got himself as a treat—but it’s panned out to be the worlds biggest trick. All the caramel-y goodness is now sat sticky amongst his keys. 

It’s sort of just dead on his table, no signs of exploding, but definitely not switching on no matter how much Phil furiously stabs at the button. His whole technique of wipe it down with some kitchen roll hadn’t worked. 

He only has a bag of pasta in his cupboard, which he thinks probably isn’t the same as the rice thing (he does try for a bit, though).

At least his anxiety has come in useful for once. Phil’s glad he’s a chronic over-saver, plus an over-emailer of your own work to yourself. Even if this MacBook is dead and buried, at least his work still exists in the email void. He doesn’t reckon his boss will be happy about having to take a company laptop home though, not with how many times he’s witnessed Phil accidentally yeet things across the office. 

_Phil [10:05am] Hey! Good morning :). Could I possibly come grab a laptop? Mine’s stopped working :(_

_Steven [10:07am] All out, i’m afraid, everyone is working from home. Feel free to drop in and do whatever you need to in the office, Phil._

He does not believe Steven, and he is _not_ going to the office today. 

It’s no good, he’s going to have to go outside.. again. His one visit to starbucks, his one jean wearing hour of the day, was ruined. His pyjama pants were kissed goodbye once more—with a promise of later. 

One cramped bus ride later and he’s halfway to getting his baby fixed, to not getting fired because of his stupid misbehaving hands. 

Or not. 

Phil nearly throws up in his own mouth after a visit to the apple store, being quoted a price that’s essentially that of a whole new Macbook. He personally thinks it’s not his fault, they should do it all for free because at £1100 a piece they should definitely be waterproof— he tells them as much. They do not agree, but they do spare him a singular pity laugh. 

He decides to flout the rules, go against the big Apple Law of _no outsiders allowed._ He gets a bit spooked on his way to the independent repair shop he’d found on google, thinks too much about the idea of the great Apple God Ghosts haunting him for the rest of his life— turning his computer off during a big project, breaking his space key, infecting him with a porn virus.

None of the thoughts are enough to make him turn back, though— it’s just him and his MacBook against Capitalism. 

_-_

**First Time**

Howell’s Repair Place is _not_ the apple shop, that’s for sure. 

It’s sort of a weird place, full to the point where Phil thinks he could be murdered and no one would notice for about three weeks. Body destined to be found amongst old stereos and computersthat must actually belong to ghosts.

It might be run by a ghost, too. It takes him a good few minutes to spot any sign of life, and that sign of life exists lower down to the ground that Phil likes his life to exist. He’s a bit scared he’s going to have to give cpr, or something, but then the life-form moves and Phil can breathe again

He doesn’t really know what to do. He can see a curly head of hair peeking out from just above the counter, reluctant to say hello in case they stand up too quickly— give themselves a concussion. Instead he just stands awkwardly, gripping his ever dying laptop close to his chest. 

“Oh fuck.” He hears, and for one terrifying moment he thinks he’s walked inon something—on _someone_ doing something they really shouldn’t be at work. 

“You stupid piece of fucking stupid shit.” And then he thinks probably not, he doubts anyone would speak to their own penis like that. Unless— unless he’s being judgey and people do actually enjoy that. Just because he can’t personally imagine it, it doesn’t mean it doesn't exist. 

Even that’s not enough to convince his clown feet to move, just stands in silence hoping whoever this maybe masturbating person is notices him soon. 

But then he feels bad— like this man will think Phil has a kink for watching people who have a penis-degradation kink. He’s about to clear his throat, make his presence known when, like a whack-a-mole, the guy appears from behind the counter. 

“God!” Phil jumps, places a hand against his heart to stop it escaping from his chest.

“Sorry.” He grins, like he isn’t actually sorry at all. “Would you hate me and leave me a bad review online if I said I was seeing which one of us would break first? Like, I really wanted to win but I was getting such a cramp from crouching down.” And of course he’s charming on top of all the being beautiful. 

Because he is—beautiful. He’s sort of waiting for his own concussion to kick in, cos the pretty has definitely bonked him on the head. 

“Depends.” Phil shrugs, trying to act cool even if his heart is demanding he drop down to his knees and offer to shine the dudes shoes, or massage his feet or— _something._

“Oh?” He gets a precise little eyebrow raise in return, jealous of the control he seems to have over his own face. “On what?” 

“If you can rescue my over-caffeinated laptop.” His feet move when he tells them to this time, gently placing the poor machine down on the wooden countertop. “What’s the verdict?”

“How big a bag of rice do you think you can get?” He opens it, frowns— sticks his tongue out like he’s about to blow a raspberry but then he remembers he has a customer. “It’s not impossible, but it’ll take a while.” 

“How long’s a while?” Phil asks, then immediately mind-punches himself because the guy can’t help how long it’s going to take. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He pulls out a little screwdriver from somewhere, Phil honestly couldn’t tell you where— if the guy told Phil he was magic he’d believe him. “Being without a laptop is truly a painful experience.” He pops the back open, reveals all its insides. Phil feels like he shouldn’t be seeing this, like he’s accidentally walked into a hospital operating room but instead of some intestines it’s loads of little confusing wires. 

“Oh no.” Phil gasps, softly. “It’s all wet in there.”

“Yeah— Christ. Is this.. were you drinking something caramel by any chance? Smells like a whole starbucks in the back of here.” He wipes at it with a random cloth, soaks up all the coffee he’d been so excited for— doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to drink it again without having flashbacks. 

“Maybe.” Phil offers, then he gets a look that immediately makes him offer up the rest. “Yes. I thought I deserved a Monday Morning treat, so I went and got a caramel macchiato. Obviously the universe did not agree with me.” 

“I would kill for one of those right now, god, only got that instant stuff in the back that tastes like literal drain cleaner.” He pulls at a wire, it makes Phil upset for a reason he doesn’t quite understand.

Phil does not tell him that that’s his usual favourite, doesn’t want to be deemed _the dude with the pleb tastebuds._ “Yeah, yeah. Er— caramel is like the way forward, or pretend I didn’t just say that because I have no idea what it actually means.” 

“I mean, it is. Everything should have a vat of caramel dumped on it.” He’s apparently done with his assessment, turns to Phil with a look more hopeful than he’d been expecting. “It’s fixable, but it’ll take a few hours.” 

“Oh! That’s great thanks..?”

“Dan. Dan Howell.”

“Phil. Phil Lester.” He doesn’t know why they’ve transitioned into the start of a James Bond movie, but he’s glad to finally have a name so he can stop referring to him as _pretty MacBook dude_ in his head. 

“I don’t know why I felt the need to flex about my name being on the front of the shop.” 

“Duh, Howells repair.. thing.”

  
  
“Place.”

  
  
“I was about to say that.” Phil doesn’t know why he feels so under a microscope, like Dan can see every little thought in his insect brain. “You own it then?”

  
  
“Passed down to me.” He murmurs, tinkering away with something that looks important. “Sort of, I mean— I was the only person who ever showed an interest in the stuff. Grandma was like Dan I gift to you a thousand old spooky typewriters and a dodgy account book.” 

“That’s cool, though! You have your very own shop, I don’t even have my own apartment.” He doesn’t know if he’s still supposed to be here, or if Dan was just being polite in not kicking him out. He wants to stay, wants to hear whatever it is Dan has to talk about. 

“I mean, I cheated my way here so don’t compare your place in life to, like, my family members dying.” Dan remarks, can’t keep the straight face he’d be going for and ends up just— _beaming._ “Sorry. That was awful. RIP grandma.” 

“Rip grandma.” Phil repeats.

“Thanks.” Dan snorts, prods Phil gently in the hand with the tip of his screwdriver. “Sure she’ll appreciate it. What’d you do anyway?”

“Video editor for like adverts and stuff.” He never knows how to explain it in a way that sounds fun— which might be because it isn’t. It’s alright, it pays the bills, but trying to sell soap and dishwasher tablets isn’t his idea of a good time. 

“Ooo, so you’re the guy who tries to sell me shit before I watch my youtube videos.” 

  
  
“Who doesn’t use ad-blocker?” It comes out more sarcastic than Phil had been going for— the tone of a genuine question missed by about about a mile and a half. 

“Hey.” Dan pouts— Phil’s a mixture of wanting to kiss him and offer him some chapstick. “My phone doesn’t have adblocker.” 

  
  
“Ah.” Phil nods, because that he can understand. The one time he tried ASMR he’d been loudly interrupted by a un-skippable advert trying to sell him _Girl Horse Games._ “I’ll let you off, then.”

  
  
“What an honour.” 

  
  
“It is!” Phil agrees, brightly. “Also, how much do I owe you for all this?” 

“We’ll see when I get to the end. It’ll be nothing like what the shiny white shop of hell charges.” 

“Do you.. need me to like, go? Leave you to it?” Phil asks, desperately hoping for a no even thoughhe works from home as much as he can so he can be left in peace.

“No.” Dan looks up, offers him a smile— dimples causing his brain to light a match and then set itself on fire. “There’s a seat over there if you wanna drag it over, can see your child getting fixed in real time. Can also make sure you get to your internet history before I do.” 

“The furry stuff is like.. research.” Phil admits, as he drags the stool toward the counter, even though he didn’t have to— Dan has no clue about his ‘research’ because his computer is dead on the table. 

“You’re supposed to not tell me.” He laughs, but he looks at least a little charmed by Phil’s one brain cell in action. “Never commit a crime, you’d be awful in police questioning.” 

“How do you know i’ve not committed a million crimes and i’m here because i’m so good at lying?” Phil asks, though it sounds like more of a demand because he’s apparently decided to die on whatever hill this is. 

“What’re your crimes?”

“Erm— erm, the erm.. big ones.”

“And that’s how I know you haven’t committed any crimes, you can’t even name any. You could’ve said crimes against nature, you know, for fucking your laptop over.” He offers, casual in a way that he thinks is sort of weird cos this is technically retail and the last time he worked in retail a customer reported him for ‘saying hello in a creepy way’. 

He likes it, though, that he’s trusted enough to swear in front of— or something. 

He just likes that Dan is still speaking to him, honestly. 

“I have committed fraud and.. fashion crimes.” He gestures towards his own outfit, the coffee stain that now lives on the white material. “One million times.” 

“I know, you could’ve changed before you come to see me.” Dan teases, hands him a tissue even though it’s absolutely too late now. The coffee has dried— along with Phil’s mouth when his and Dan’s fingers brush. 

It’s like he’s a Victorian maiden, never even seen an ankle before— never mind a dick. It’s just been a while, and Phil’s all about that monogamous life. Grindr was a quick download and delete. 

It doesn’t matter, none of this matters, he’s just a gay man being confronted with a very beautiful, and just his type, Dan.He can be gay and have gay thoughts anytime he likes, actually, even in this tiny repair shop filled with the ghosts of computers and stereos from the 90’s. 

“Sorry, next time i’ll dig out my finest silks.” 

“You’d better.”

They remain in comfortable silence for a few minutes until Dan asks, “You didn’t try and turn it back on, did you?”

Phil shakes his head. 

“Are you lying?” 

“No.” 

  
  
“Phil.”  


He relents. “Of course I tried to turn it back on! I panicked.” 

“Never do that, makes the electrics inside all funky and.. it makes it harder to fix.” 

“I can pay you extra?” Phil offers, apologetic smile and all. 

“No— no, it’s fine. Literally everyone tries to do that, emergency brain goes _brrrrrr use big button.”_

-

It takes three hours. 

They talk about every topic under the sun, Dan charges him barely nothing at all. 

Phil knows he’s fucked, and so are all his electronics. 

**Second Time**

“I think this has to be some sort of record.”

  
  
“I’m sorry, i’m just— i’m clumsy. My boss won’t let me take the work laptops home because he’s convinced i’m somehow going to set them on fire.” 

This time it hadn’t been an accident. Phil had whacked his MacBook off his table, very much on purpose. 

He hadn’t logically been able to think of anything else that would result in seeing Dan again. The only way was to torture his poor electronics, to rack up the cost of a full screen repair bill.

“There’s clumsy, and then there’s you.” Dan’s tracing over the spiderweb of cracks, looks almost pained by it. “This time of year is usually quiet, you know? It’s usually just after Christmas that I get everyone in. Their kid has launched their new iPad into the sun, or someone’s gotten drunk and spilt wine all over their laptop.”

  
  
“I’m sorry.” Phil produces a cup from behind his back, looks a bit too proud of himself as he places it on the counter. “I did bring you a caramel macchiato though, as a thanks for fixing all my mistakes.” 

“Oh.”Dan says, all soft and sweet— for a second Phil think he’s going to cry. “Thanks. Nicest customer award goes to you.” 

“Least I could do for being such a menace.” 

Dan just smiles, then he’s fiddling around again— occasional sips of coffee in-between.

Phil debates the situation in his mind for a few minutes, the stool sat in the corner isstaring at him— inviting him. Dan’s not asked him to leave, seems content for Phil to just watch him work. He hadn’t broken his laptop to not sit here, to not enjoy Dan’s company for a couple of hours. 

He drags it. 

“Oh, hi.” Dan’s smiling into the neckline of his jumper, and Phil think’s he’s made the right decision to stick around. 

“Hi.” Phil repeats, leans forward on his elbow to watch the intricate way Dan works. His hands are huge, but there’s something so delicate about them— his mind wanders off, imagines them elsewhere. He’s sure there’s a dusting of pink of his cheeks when he crashes back into the room, to a Dan who has been trying to ask him the same question for over a minute now. 

“Sorry, what?” Phil has the decency to sound sheepish, sure he looks it too.

“I said were you doing something important when the casualty happened?” 

“Just something for work, can’t do anymore without it so figure I may as well sit here patiently until it’s fixed. Just be sat at home staring at the wall otherwise.” Way to sell himself— _hi i’m Phil and I have no life, just stare at the wall._

“So you’re telling me you’re not sat here because you really enjoy the pleasure of my company? I’m hurt.” He presses his hand, the one that isn’t prying the screen of his laptop off, to his heart. He’s all dramatic and stupid and Phil thinks he has a proper crush for the first time in ages. 

“That, too. Just didn’t want to seem like a laptop repair man stalker.” It’s ironic— because he definitely is that. 

“You mean you didn’t break this on purpose just to see me?” He laughs.

Phil tries to not sweat where he’s sat, feels like he’s back in US customs being quizzed on whether or not he’s there to commit crime. 

“Ha!” It comes out too sharp, too stupid and obvious and—he should cease talking for the rest of his life. “No, I mean, that’d be an expensive way to see someone.”

Phil thinks he’ just about gotten away with it— even if his eyeballs do feel like they’re sweating.

“It woul—ow, fuck.” Dan whines as he catches his finger on a particularly sharp corner, jams it straight into his mouth in attempt to stop the bloodflow. “Changed my mind, you’re the most dangerous customer.” 

“That wasn’t— give me your hand.” He looks suspicious, but he holds it out after Phil stares him down. “Sticking it into your mouth isn’t the best idea, you know.”

  
  
“Alright, doctor.”

  
  
Phil just— he rolls his eyes because what else is he supposed to do, admit to the fact Dan calling him doctor apparently unearthed a kink he’d never known about before now?

“Just be a good patient.” He digs through his oversupplied backpack, produces some tissues and a packet of plasters. 

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.” He isn’t— wriggles as Phil tries to examine just how deep it is. 

“Do you want a lollipop at the end of this?”

It’s enough of a distraction— making Dan laugh. Gives him a few seconds to make sure it’s more of a surface cut, nothing that requires stitches. “Behaving.” 

He does. Sits perfectly still as Phil mops up the blood, presses a anti-septic wipe to it that absolutely has to sting— that’s made him flinch in the past. He wraps his finger up in a plaster, gives it a little pat. “There we are.”

“Oh.” Dan whispers. “That all?” 

“Well, yeah.” Phil can’t think of anything else. “Unless you want me to kiss it better?”

  
  
“Sure. You can kiss it better.”

-

“I think you’re too much of the common decimator here, honestly. You say all the weirdos come to you, but what if it’s because you’re the biggest weirdo of them all? You emit this weirdo vibe that they’re just drawn to.” 

Phil had gotten a bit too happy with telling his stories, started to reveal stuff that Dan was struggling to believe. He wishes they _weren’t_ true— that people didn’t bark at him on the street, that a random woman hadn’t suggested he adopt her baby, that a squirrel didn’t bite him right on the Florida. 

“No. That’s not fair! I’m not doing anything weird at the time they approach me.” Phil whines, all proper pathetic and hard done by. “You can’t pin my.. nice person energy on it.”

  
  
“You keep telling yourself that, Phil.”

  
  
“I will.” He answers—stubborn, even though he thinks Dan might be a little bit right. All the weird things he’d ever done were catching up with him, presenting in the form of people following him down the street asking if he’d ever done foot modelling before. “Stop acting like you’ve never done anything weird.”

“Never said I hadn’t, just nothing weird enough to radiate big weird guy vibes.” He’s nearly there, currently pressing a new screen on—Phil’s sad their time is nearly over. “I outed myself to my family over email, that’s weird.”

  
  
“You what?”

  
  
“Emailed them, Phil. All like, Hi gays i’m guy.” He catches up with his own tongue a second later. “Fucking hell, you know what I meant. Hi guys i’m gay.” 

Phil would love to say words, he really would. Use all the ones he’s got stored away in his brain, all the ones from his literal degree in English language. He can just produce nosies right now, though. A grunt that conveys nothing— his head just screaming _Dan gay._

“That is weird, right? You seem less mildly concerned than most people i’ve told that to.” Dan’s looking at him expectantly, like Phil has to participate for this to be a conversation— that Dan can’t just read his mind and go from there. 

“Email.” He finally gets out, sounds like he’s just learning to talk—that’s his first attempt at saying a word that isn’t made up. 

“Yes, Phil, Email. You know the big electronic letter system, it’s quite popular amongst the people, I hear.” He’s speaking to Phil like a toddler— like a toddler who’s refusing to eat his dinner and will only be convinced by the promise of _here comes the airplane._

“Sorry, forgot how to speak. That’s pretty weird, yeah.” Phil agrees. “And like.. formal, too.” 

“I panicked. I though if I add everyone into the same email chain then they can all discuss my gayness amongst themselves.” He sounds nonchalant about it all, though the way he’s resolutely avoiding meeting Phil’s eye says it may not be as casual as he likes to make out. 

He can’t exactly quiz him, though _. How did your coming out make you feel_? Tell this guy you’ve literally met twice, and tell him quickly. 

He just settles for— for a stupid sympathetic noise. “Family, huh?”

  
“Huh.” 

“Huh.”

  
  
“Huh.”

  
  
“Hu-“ He chokes midway through, coughs his way to the end and is saved by Dan offering him the last dregs of a cold starbucks.

“That’s what you get for personally annoying me.” Dan teases, but only after he makes sure Phil is alright. 

-

He’s done now, turning on the screen to make sure it works as well as it had pre Phil dropping it on laminate. He needs to think of cheaper ways to do this, sure he has old things in drawers and a surround sound system he never uses in a cupboard. 

Constantly breaking the one thing he relies on isn’t smart— but is any of this? 

“Ta-da!” Dan spins it around, shows Phil a fully functioningscreen with no cracks in sight. All it’s cost him is a couple hundred quid, and a cut to a finger that isn’t his. “You know they would’ve charged you like six hundred for that, yeah? Basically working for free here.” 

“I’ll send all my friends to you, promise. I’ll go to all their houses and whilst they’re not looking i’ll just quietly break all their stuff.” And it’s awful that part of him would, just to keep Dan away from another dodgy account book. 

“Can you break something a little less sharp, not all of them are going to be carrying around a first aid kit in their bag.” Dan’s trying to sound cross, but it’s impossible when his dimples keep caving in. 

“Are they deep?” Phil blurts, mouth speaking without his brains permission.

“Er— what?” 

“Sorry, that was weird— which doesn’t prove your point about the me being the centre of all the weirdness, by the way.” Phil is quick to clarify. “I meant your dimples, they just look.. deep.”

“You’re not the first guy to ask that.” Dan smiles, just so he can poke his own fingers into them. “Pretty deep, yeah. Would say you could hide a couple snacks in there if you didn’t want to pay cinema prices.” 

“They’re—“ Cute, is what he wants to say but he can’t because that would be a lot— too much. “Thicc.” 

“Get out.” 

  
  
“Nooo.” Phil curls his fingers around the edge of the counter, begs for mercy. “I don’t control my brain, it controls me. You can’t blame the Phil for all this.” 

“Who do I blame for the broken laptop twice in a week, then? The brain or the Phil?”

  
  
“Oh, you definitely blame the brain for all that. Phil’s just an innocent bystander to all the chaos.” 

**Third Time** ****

He comes back a week later, the thought of Dan’s gayness still buzzing around in his brain. 

He feels this giant urge to tell Dan he’s gay too, literally be like— _hey, same hat!_

He goes for subtle, goes for casual, misses both of them and instead dumps his gayness on the counter with a massive thud. “Was on the phone to my mum this morning and she said i’d better be bringing a boyfriend home for Christmas this year.”

Dan just gives him a funny look for a second, then it softens out into something _more_ — he’s just always beautiful, always has the ability to makes Phil’s breath catch. “Think my mum would scream if I did that.”

  
  
“Oh.” Phil frowns, because now he feels bad for bringing it up at all. He gently taps on Dan’s hand where it lays on the countertop, a steady rhythm that’s the opposite of his heart. “Wanna talk about it? I’ve basically destroyed the Ipad, it’ll take a while.” 

“Of course you have, hand it over. One more thing and I might have to report you to electronic services.” Phil offers it out—iPad he’d found at the back of his cupboard from four years ago. He remembers getting rid of it because it used to switch off whenever it pleased, and even if he gets it back fixed now he’ll still never use it again. “And what, wanna talk about my childhood issues?”

  
  
“No.. yes? I mean, if you want to talk about your childhood issues.” He goes through the song and dance of pulling the stool over, sits down even though in a few hours his back will be dead and his arse half numb. “I just think family is difficult, sometimes.”

  
  
“Yeah.” Dan murmurs, digging through a box of wires. “Im like— she’s not that bad. She tries, she’s not homophobic or whatever.I think she just had a life for me in her head, the whole marriage and two point five kids with a woman type plan. I just think she’s always going to be a bit awkward about it, but then i’ve never had anyone to take home with me so.. who knows.” 

That shouldn’t make Phil happy— but it does. Knowing Dan’s all single and alone makes him feel over the fucking moon actually. “Can take me back on a trial run, your pretend repair shop boyfriend.” 

Dan stops rummaging, looks up at Phil with a certain amount of apprehension and.. upset? Phil honestly can’t tell, there’sjust something wrong about the way his eyes aren’t quite as bright as usual. 

“Yeah. Pretend.” He finally gets out, then he’s back in his box and Phil’s left with a lingering sense of having done something wrong. 

He changes the subject, can’t bear whatever atmosphere he’s just created. “My boss gives me all the gay stuff, he’s like oh you’re gay, right? You can sell.. lube.”

Dan just snorts, pulls out a wire that’s still tangled up amongst twenty-five others. “He knows straight people use lube too, right? Please tell him.”

“I’ll let him know first thing tomorrow morning.” He clears his throat, puts on his best presenter voice. “Steven, did you know your dissatisfying sex life may be down to the lack of lube in your life.” 

Dan giggles, and Phil thinks that makes everything worth it. “Lack of lube in your life, lack of lube in your life, lack of Lube in your life. God. Tongue twister.” 

“That should be the entire advert, just you repeating that in the background over and over whilst I pour lube down a rippling six back.” 

“Do I get paid for my top-notch voice work?” Dan asks, poking around on the screen— going into the settings.. frowning at _something._

“Oh, of course.” 

  
  
“This kinda makes me glad i’m my own boss, you know. I can just hand of all my gay projects to the little gay mouse that lives in my walls.” 

“Please introduce me to the mouse.” Phil pleads, gets hushed by a raised hand.

  
  
“For fucks sake, Phil. Did you go into your setting and have it set to turn off the screen every five seconds?” Dan asks, all exasperated. 

“Oh. I maybe did that.. I was just exploring!” Phil defends, though it’s a weak defence if the look Dan sends his way is anything to go by. He looks less that impressed, but the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth is all Phil can focus on. 

“I should charge you a million quid for your stupid brain.” He hands it back over, and Phil’s a bit devastated about their time together being over. He was hoping for a couple of hours, not twenty minutes.

The couple of hours happen by accident, a genuine accident this time— Phil takes it back from Dan and immediately proceeds to drop it on the floor. 

“You didn’t.” 

“My hands are out of control!”

  
  
“You literally have the hand equivalent of a fucking claw machine. Jesus Christ, Phil. Give it back, guess I won’t be eating lunch today.” It’s properly smashed, part of the glass screen beneath Phil’s feet. 

“I have some stuff in my bag, you can share.” What he has is a packet of popcorn, half a sandwich that he decided he didn’t actually like and a gay magazine— the _non-raunchy_ type. 

“Cool. Can’t wait to eat your old bread, and gay paper.” 

Phil lets him eat all the popcorn, which means this has gone past a crush and into something else entirely. 

**Fourth Time**

It’s Phil’s fourth visit of the month. 

“Hello, trouble.” Dan’s sat behind the counter looking all cozy, bundled up in a striped sweater— sleeves pull down over his hands. Phil gets the desperate urge to just walk over and hug him, see if he’s actually as warm the energy he radiates. “What’ve you broken this time?” 

“Nothing!” Phil sounds offended, even though he has zero right to be. “I’m actually here to see if any of those typewriters you have work, friend wants one for his birthday.” 

“Well, buckaroo, I’m going to go out for lunch but you can come along, if you want. Tell me all about his typewriters needs.” 

It’s not a date. 

Is it?

  
  
No. 

“Where you going?” Not that he’s going to say no, he could take him to a bar that served up horse hooves and Phil would still jump on-board the Dan train. He just needs to make himself seem at least one percent less desperate to be in Dan’s company. 

“New little pizza place just opened up across the street, fixed their laptop last week so they said I could have a freebie.” He shoos Phil out of the shop, apparently already knows that he’ll be coming along. 

“The only tolerable way to eat cheese. Count me in.” 

“You don’t like cheese? You absolute heathen, next time you can go to the apple store.” He elbows Phil as he locked the door, all this cheek on his face which means he absolutely did it on purpose. 

“I’ll have you know I bruise like a peach, so i’d be careful with where you’re putting those hands, Daniel.” It wasn’t supposed to sound inappropriate, but Dan takes it as such and makes a lewd gesture— Phil does _not_ respond to it. 

It really is right across the street, a lovely little place that does look like proper date potential. They’re led to a corner table by a man who looks fully capable of snapping them both in half, then he opens his mouth and turns out to be the sweetest person Phil has ever met. He vows to stop perceiving people purely based on looks alone.

He keeps offering a rose for the table, Phil shakes his head just as Dan opens his mouth to say something. “Right. No then, thanks Eugene.”

He sounds disappointed again, Phil has a nasty habit of doing that— creating tension because he’s opened his big mouth too abruptly 

“What’re you having?” He asks, after five minutes have passed in which both of them had just stared at the menu without actually having read it— at least Phil definitely hadn’t read it. Too busy thinking about how their knees were pressed together beneath the tiny table, how Dan has a rosy patch on his jaw. 

“Food.”

  
  
“Ha ha.” Phil deadpans, then, “don’t want any more gay paper? Seemed to really enjoy that the last time, maybe they’ll let you eat the gay tablecloth.” He suggests. 

“Dunno.” Dan shrugs, touches up the cloth in consideration. “Na, think it might be a bit dry.” 

“Well you’ve rubbed your filthy little paws over it now, it’d be rude not to eat it.”

  
  
“Paws? God. How deep are you in this whole furry business?” 

-

They both get a pizza to share, it’s great because sometimes they reach for the same slice and it’s all romantic when they both act like the other can have it. And other times their fingers brush and Phil feels like there are at thousand bees buzzing around in his stomach. 

“I think this is made out of like angel tears.” It’s nudging dominos out of top place— not that is really should’ve ever been there in the first place. 

“Right? I’m basically going to spend all my mon—oh, lean in a sec.” 

Phil panics, thinks they’re about to kiss in the middle of a romantic restaurant. He lunges forward at an alarming rate, nearly sets himself on fire on the little candle Eugene had insisted upon. 

“Woah.” Dan says, softly. “Calm down, only got some sauce on your face.” He dabs it off gently, lingers though Phil’s sure he’s got it all.

“Done?”

“Yeah, sorry. Was staring into your eyes like a loser, trying to work out if there is actually some yellow going on.” He let’s Phil sit back down, and Phil thinks maybe his heart is going to explode if he breaks any more of his possessions. 

“They’re literally just blue, stop trying to make me feel special.” But the problem is is that he already does feel special, being in Dan’s presence makes him feel bolder— makes him feel like _more_ than he usually is. 

“Oh, shut up. No way you didn’t do that whole think of nearly blinding yourself with flash so you could get a close of photo of your eyeball.” He nudges the toe of Phil’s shoe beneath the table— and it feels like flirting. 

“Whatever. I thought I was dead edgy on Myspace.” It’s a mistake. Dan point blank refuses to let him go before he’s seen photos— before he’s both somehow insulted and complimented Phil on his old haircut. 

“I used to torture mine with straighteners to get it to look like that, and you’re telling me it’s just natural for you? You get lego hair for free?” He’s got Phil’s phone in his hand, definitely scrolling beyond the point of just looking at myspace photos. 

“Daniel Howell, are you snooping?” He doesn't’ feel how he would normally feel, though. There’s no desperate urge to grab his phone back, no clawing feeling of someone seeing something embarrassing. He’s oddly content to sit there and let Dan look through whatever he wants. 

“No.” Dan shakes his head, “just looking for something.”

He’s gone properly red now, the rosy patch taking over his entire face until he’s sat there looking just as red as the table cloth. Phil has a brief moment of panic, he doesn’t mind whatever Dan is doing, but he’d still rather his nudes weren’t exposed in the middle of a lunch (not) date. 

“Found it?” Phil enquires, tries to tip his head at an impossible angle— doesn’t result in him seeing his phone screen, does result in him nearly falling off the chair. 

“Er— yeah. Sort of. Guess I have some answers now.” 

“Answers? I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I kinda feel like I should be afraid.” He gets his phone back, resists the urge to unlock it and try and figure out the great mystery. 

“Was just using google for something, can stop looking like a deer in the headlight.” It sounds reassuring, but it’s still not enough to reassure him. He doesn’t know what Dan has seen, but Phil thinks it must be something awful. 

He’s got a million photos of dogs that aren’t his, that could be seen as a bit creepy but nothing worth turning red over. He doesn’t even have any nudes, unless you count the photo of him on a family holiday with just a pair of swimming trunks on— he doesn’t think his nipples have that powerful an affect, though. 

“Earth to Phil. What the hell do you have on your phone, should I be concerned?” Dan’s hand is waving furiously in front of his face, Phil doesn’t think twice about reaching out and catching it. 

Dan’s hand is bigger than his, in a way that’s a novelty for Phil. He doesn’t let go when he should, can’t stop staring at how Dan practically swallows up his palm— how his fingers slot so perfectly into Phil’s. 

He’s met with the opposite of whatever he’d been expecting when he looks up—something soft and fond. “You using me as your own personal glove? I charge by the hour, you know.” 

“Do you get sweaty?”

  
  
“A little bit.” 

“Then no thank you, I don’t like my gloves wet.” He still clings on for a couple seconds longer though, only lets go when Dan starts to laugh in _that_ way— that proper joyous way, head flung back and loud enough to fill the entire room. 

“You’re so weird.”

  
  
“Yeah, and?”

  
  
“Nothing.” Dan smiles. “I like it.”

-

“Is your friend a writer?” Dan holds open the door for him, leans over his shoulder so he can switch on the light. All the closeness today is doing something funny to Phil’s heart, part of him feels like that should’ve been a date, that they’re coming back here for something..something more.

But it wasn’t, so they aren’t. 

“Hmm?” Phil had forgotten all about it, stomach pleasantly full with pizza and head pleasantly buzzed on Dan. 

“You know.” Dan prompts, but Phil just— he still has no idea. 

“I know what?”

  
  
“Are you a literal goldfish?” Dan sighs as he turns the sign from closed to open. “Your friend who wants the typewriter.”

  
  
“Oh!” Of course. His entire reason for being here, definitely not the crush that’s forming into something else— something bigger than he can wrap his head around. “Yeah. They are. She writes for a newspaper mainly, but she’s just started writing a novel.”

  
  
“Oooo, cool.” Dan disappears into the back for a second, brings out a typewriter Phil had never seen before. “This is my secret one, hide it away in the back. Away from the vultures who wanna buy it and then sell it on for double at auction.”

  
  
“It’s beautiful.” Phil gasps, and it’s odd because he never imagined he’d be gasping over a typewriter. It just looks so official, like something you’d see in a movie— a guy sat there pouring his heart out in letter form to the love of his life. “Now I want to be a writer.” 

“Could be. Start writing that script for the furry movie of your dreams.” _Always_ with the furry thing, he’s staring to think Dan isn’t as adversed to it as he makes out. 

“You know I got a masters degree in video editing so I could work in the movies. I had all these plans about creating the next big blockbuster, seeing my name in lights— I had an entire Oscar speech prepared and everything.” Phil admits, stroking his fingers along the keys. “Then reality happened and I realised you need connections, and sadly my dad isn’t like.. Nicholas Cage.”

  
  
“Really?” Dan laughs, fingers dancing alongside Phil’s— he wants nothing more than to reach out and hold them again. “Out of all the people in the world you go with Nicholas Cage.”

  
  
“He’s a cultural icon, thank you very much.” He brushes their pinkies, it’s as far as he’ll go today— anything else and it’s all going to become startlingly obvious. 

“He is, sorry. I wish my dad was Tommy Wiseau.”

_“Oh, Hi Mark.”_

“Exactly!” Dan looks delighted that he’s seen that car crash of a movie, they spend the next few minutes exchange quotes until they’re both giggling like lunatics— until Phil realises it’s barely been a month and he’s already fallen. 

He’s not a love at first sight sort of person, but he’d always known Dan was _something_ — someone who’d become special to him. 

“Stop, gonna piss myself.” Dan wheezes. “You look at that, decide if you want it. I’m going to go to the toilet.” 

-

“I want it.” But he’d known that from the second Dan had presented it to him. It was too good to be hidden away, to go to keep going on unused— it deserved someones love. 

“Thank god, think it was getting depressed back there.” They agree on a price, something Phil thinks is too low but Dan refuses to take any more for it.

  
  
“Guess i’d better go figure out the best way to wrap a typewriter.” It’s heavy, Phil picks it up and almost drops it straight to the ground— genuinely thinks Dan would’ve killed him on the spot if he had. 

“They’re your big evening plans?” 

“Yup! Thrilling life of me, I know.” How had Dan made this look so effortless, Phil feels like he’s carrying a big bag filled with all his past mistakes. 

“Not got anyone joining you? No one to help on the whole how to present a type writer as a presentbusiness?” Dan asks, chewing on the side of his thumbnail in a way that isn’t sexy but somehow is because it’s him— probably because he’s looking up at Phil from beneath too long eyelashes. 

“Nope, all alone in my endeavour.” 

“Pity.” Dan shrugs, stands back to full height once he realises Phil is struggling a bit— pushes it more securely into his arms. “I’m sure I know someone who’d love to spend a night with the guy who breaks every electronic in the world.” 

He doesn’t like whatever Dan is implying, sounds like he’s trying to set him up with a friend. “Ah, well, you know— erm. Best be off!” 

He scurries out, misses the look Dan gives him— something that could be described as longing.

-

His friend enjoys the typewriter she’d never even asked for. 

**Fifth Time**

When Phil walks into the shop for the fifth time, an iPod from about 2005 clutched in his hand as an excuse, Dan just rolls his eyes. 

“Come with me.”  


“Where?”

  
  
“In the back, got something to show you.” And Phil is nothing if not wrapped around Dan’s little finger, follows behind him like an obedient little puppy— trail of broken electronics in his wake. 

“Ooo, is it fun?” Phil can’t imagine much fun lies in the back, apart from the whole element of being alone with Dan in a space that really does not look very big. It’s sort of like a cupboard, filled with stuff that looks haunted. 

“Depends.” Dan’s suddenly all up in Phil’s space, forcing his back up against one of the filled shelves. He has a terrible thought about one of the old typewriters falling and knocking him out, but that thought doesn’t last long at all because - god - Dan’s there, a hand fiddling with the collar of Phil’s shirt. 

“On?” And he hopes the loudness of his heart isn’t too obvious, the way he swallows too harshly— how much he _wants_ this. 

“If i’ve been reading this all wrong. If you’re here because all your stuff is really broken, or here because you want me.” Dan answers, easy— sexy in a way that Phil wouldn’t have believed was real before he met Dan. 

“You knew?” 

“Had an inkling.” He grins, all dimples and crinkles around the eyes—the guy he’d properly fell for. “Especially after the last time, did you know you hadn’t deleted your search history? It was all _Daniel Howell, Daniel Howell Facebook, Daniel Howell instagram, how do you know you’re probably in love?_ Yes, I was absolutely snooping. _”_

“Nooo!” Phil whines, tries to bury his face in his hands but Dan stops him—takes hold of both of his wrists and it _does_ something to Phil. “I did not leave that on there, shutup. I forgot phones even had a history.” 

“S’alright, feeling is mutual. With how I am do you really fucking believe i’m letting every customer sit and wait whist I fix their shit? Nope, send them away and tell them to go be busy for a few hours.” Oh. Phil feels a bit stupid now, wonders if he could’ve asked him out on a date and saved himself all the broken electronic money.

“I literally tried to bait you into asking me on a date the last time you were here.” That answers that.

  
  
Phil feels like he has a minus 100 iq— brain a mixture of dumb and horny with the way Dan is still holding him. “I thought you were just really interested in what I was doing that night, all my plans! Probably checking up on me to make sure it didn’t involve breaking stuff.” 

“Yeah, that’s it, wanted to make sure you weren’t strangling anymore poor devices to death .” Dan snorts, let’s go of his wrists in favour of holding him by the hips— he’s sort of obsessed with how massive Dan’s hands are, how they make him look smaller than he is. “But, actually, I really wanted your plans to be _me_.” 

“I wanted my plans to be you, too. I’m just stupid and can’t read signs because I thought oh he’s way too pretty to want— or whatever.” Phil cuts himself off, not the time for the whole _I think you’re prettier than me_ stuff when Dan’s literally holding him— is looking at him like he wants to eat him alive. 

“I can be your plans right now, unless you really want that stupid iPod fixing.” Phil drops it the floor— thinks it’s a sexy point to make, when really it just smacks him right in the ankle on the way down. 

“Definitely don’t want it fixing, just didn’t want to break my MacBook again because I have an important project to finish by tonight.” They’re talking into each others mouths by this point, all it would take is for one of them to stop being stubborn and close the gap. “Unless you really wanna fix it?” 

“No, I really— for fucks sake, you stubborn bastard. Good job I like you.” It’s Dan, because of course it is— a grin on his face like he can’t quite believe his luck

It’s one of those proper movie kisses, one that gives Phil butterflies, makes him see stars. He slips his hands up the back of Dan’s shirt, desperate to be touching him just to prove to himself that this is real—he hadn’t just had a particularly raunchy repair shop dream. 

And, oh, _he knows_ what he’s doing. Clearly got this kissing business down to a fine art, makes Phil feel like a pile of melted goo that’s only able to stand up because Dan’s holding onto him— tightly, in a way that makes Phil hornier than it has any right to. 

It’s the tongue that makes Phil lose it, makes him pull back all wild eyed. “Nope, stop. Gonna kill me.” 

“That’s the plan.” Dan chases after him— Phil lets him. 

Ten minutes later - after ten minutes of making out like horny schoolboys in a literal storage closet - Dan’s the one to break it. 

To look at Phil with a questioning eyebrow raise, then a questioning eyebrow wriggle— and it’s really unfair that he can be all hot _and_ cute at the exact same time. 

“What?” Phil asks and it comes out a bit breathless, like he’s just ran a marathon— but he thinks getting kissed to within an inch of your life is essentially the same thing. 

“Go turn the sign on the door over to closed.”

  
  
“Why?”

Dan doesn’t give him an answer, just drops down onto his knees— Phil’s never moved so quickly in his goddamn life. 

-

“Dan, Dan, Dan.” He repeats over and over— like a prayer that consists of only one word. And he’s never been a religious man before, but in this moment he believes Dan’s mouth must be a miracle. 

“Mhm?” And he’s gone, _again._ It’s been fifteen minutes of this, getting close only for Dan to pull away. He presses little kisses to the top of his thigh and then something a bit harsher— leaves a mark. 

“Please?” He’s not above begging, not when Dan looks like his version of heaven— not when his lips are red and puffy, not when all Phil can think about is coming. 

“Please what?”

“Please.. Dan?”

“Nope, this is punishment for all the extra work you gave me for no reason. All those poor electronics you broke. You have to apologise.” He blows a stream of cold air out just to be a dickhead - to make him squirm- laughs when Phil lets out a pathetic whine. 

“I paid for all that! So essentially i’m like paying for th-“ He gets abruptly cut off, a sharp pinch to the inside of his thigh.

  
  
“Don’t say it, stupid. Makes it sound— you know i’m giving you this for free, go around saying stuff like that and you’ll get me shut down.” 

“Ok, this is a free blowjob.” 

Dan just properly giggles, but then he’s finally, _finally_ going back down on him and—

“Eeeek! No teeth.” 

Dan pops back off, “did you literally just say eeeek?” He asks, sounding half fond and half on the verge of a hysterical breakdown. 

“Yes! Shutup, I don’t like the idea of teeth biting my literal penis off.” He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest in some weird attempt to gain the moral high ground— which is a bit hard when his dick is actually hanging out. 

“I wasn’t going to bite your dick off, stupid. Some people just like it, obviously not you. Gotta experiment, gotta keep it fresh.”

“This is the first time! You don’t have too— just, ugh. I promise your mouth is enough, really, it’s actually—“ He doesn’t get to finish that particular thought, because the praise had worked and now Dan’s _really_ going for it.

The teasing edge that had been there before is gone, and Phil can’t form a coherent thought because Dan’s mouth is all wet heat— all clever tongue and christ.. no gag reflex. He looks down to see Dan looking up, and the want he sees reflected back at him is enough. 

He tries to warn Dan, tugs on his curls but he doesn’t move— just stares at him with a _go on then, I want you to._

His head hits the shelf behind him with a thunk as he comes, fingers tightening in Dan’s curls because he can’t help it— because the last time he did it Dan moaned. 

He places it immediately at the top of the list— best orgasm of his life award— and when Dan pulls away this time it’s with a smug little smile. It’s with a dribble of come down his chin that he licks away. 

“God, if I were younger I think watching you do that might’ve actually made me hard again.” He tugs Dan up, just so he can kiss him— so he can taste himself on Dan’s tongue. “What’d you want?” 

“Me? Nothing right now. Got someone due in with a broken computer in two minutes, but I wanna be your later plans.” 

-

**Sixth Time**

“Phil!” Dan screams, it’s from their office which mean he’s likely found it. 

“Yeeees?” He asks, pops his head around the door with his best innocent face but he already knows Dan can read through all his lies.

“You break this?” He’s holding a macbook, the screen somehow separate from the keyboard. 

“No..”

  
  
“For fucks sake, did you ask me to move in with you to get free fucking— how did you even? You and your actual giant claw machine hands, I swear to god.” 

“Actually the dropping of it didn’t break it, it was the fact I stood on it— so, ha. Fix one more thing for me, Mr Pretty Macbook Dude?”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to repeat this is the whole fic!!!!! Second chapter is a chapter of nothing Cos this fic had a posting issue that I’m trying to fix!!!❤️❤️
> 
> [if you wanna reblog on tumblr, always appreciate it!](https://fictropes.tumblr.com/post/633433026383249408/electronics-and-the-phils-who-break-them)
> 
>   
> as said... blowjobs in the cupboard, as a treat. 
> 
> as always, lemme know your thoughts! i'm sorry im so bad at replying to commnets lately (it's the being afraid that my simple thanku isn't good enough LOL) but i read them all and they mean so so much to me and always make me smile so THANKYOU for leaving them<3
> 
> this was a blaaast, but i will now seriously be starting my break from fic LOL

**Author's Note:**

> [if you wanna reblog on tumblr, always appreciate it!](https://fictropes.tumblr.com/post/633433026383249408/electronics-and-the-phils-who-break-them)
> 
> as said... blowjobs in the cupboard, as a treat. 
> 
> as always, lemme know your thoughts! i'm sorry im so bad at replying to commnets lately (it's the being afraid that my simple thanku isn't good enough LOL) but i read them all and they mean so so much to me and always make me smile so THANKYOU for leaving them<3
> 
> this was a blaaast, but i will now seriously be starting my break from fic LOL


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